Brad Yates, Louise Hay and Rain — Three Videos I Use to Bring More Peace to My Life

Andrea Amador

Sep 20, 2026

Short ‘n Sweet. I have used all of these videos for years and they have become my go-to for times when I need a mental reset.

Brad Yates — Panic & Anxiety

I have been tapping since 2004, when I first learned how to do it after a coaching colleague came to my rescue and showed me how to tap my way through my first anxiety attack. I became a believer and decided to devote myself to sharing this incredible gift of stress relief with other women.

But in my experience, nobody has ever come close to creating a tapping script that brings me the kind of immediate relief I get from this video.

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Last month was extremely stressful for me, and I had several anxiety attacks. After the first one, I noticed something important: if I started tapping as soon as I felt that first wave of anxiety, I could calm myself before those anxious feelings flooded me.

This was the video I reached for.

Louise Hay — Morning Meditation

Louise Hay’s Morning Meditation is a fresh start any time of day — not to mention that her voice is filled with warmth and kindness.

The past 2½ years have been really stressful for me. I’ve had to take on the role of a pro se litigant fighting to protect my home and, in many ways, learn to think and act like an attorney.

I’m a coach, not a lawyer.

But this meditation has reminded me again and again of all the things I have to be grateful for. And Louise’s suggestion that whatever I need comes to me has helped give me the confidence to take on challenges I never imagined I’d be facing.

Last week, at the eleventh hour, I happened to put myself in the right place at the right time and had the opportunity to speak directly with New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani. That conversation led to members of his team helping me connect with resources around my housing case.

No matter what challenge you’re facing, hearing Louise Hay’s buttery-soft voice and walking through her guided meditation may leave you, 24 minutes later, feeling a little more refreshed, confident, and ready to pick up where you left off.

Even if what you need next is to take a nap. ❤️

Rain Sounds for Sleeping

I first learned how to meditate when I was about 12 years old with my dad. I learned Transcendental Meditation in the 70’s and it was a blast. But I never really understood what an incredible tool is it to balance my mental health until decades later.

Years ago, back in 2017, when I decided to get serious about caring for my mental health, I knew that daily meditation, quieting my thoughts, and taming my inner critic were going to be essential.

I went to YouTube and discovered all kinds of sound videos that I found incredibly comforting.

I adore the sound of rain.

YouTube has a ton of wonderfully relaxing sound videos, and many of them play for hours. You can listen to ocean waves, a crackling fireplace, birds singing, cats purring, leaves blowing in the wind, music — and, of course, rain.

Perhaps my favorite sound video of all time is one called Rain Sounds for Sleeping. It’s about three hours long, and I’ve returned to it again and again over the years.

I hope this collection brings more peace and calming to your life too.

These are the videos I actually use to love my way to wellness on a consistent basis.

Brad Yates when anxiety starts rising.
Louise Hay when you need to begin again.
Rain when you need to quiet everything down.

Perhaps like me, you’ve spent years taking care of everyone else.

Perhaps you’ve been the one who listened, supported, encouraged, rescued, organized, sacrificed, and showed up whenever someone needed you.

You may have become so brilliant at caring for others that you never stopped to ask what it was costing you.

Not because you didn’t matter.

But because somewhere along the way, you learned that love meant putting yourself last.

Maybe you watched your mother do it.

Maybe your grandmother did it.

Maybe you learned that being selfless meant giving everyone else the best and taking whatever was left for yourself.

Like eating the piece of burnt toast you hate so someone else could have the good one.

Like taking the smallest portion.

Like sitting down last after everyone else had been served.

Like making sure everyone else’s needs were met before considering your own.

For many of us, these acts looked like love.

And they were.

Because we may have learned that our needs mattered less than everyone else’s.

We might have become so accustomed to putting ourselves last that we stopped noticing we were doing it.

Perhaps somewhere along the way, we may have confused self-sacrifice with self-worth.

For many of us, self-sacrifice became a way of life.

Until one day we look around and realize that while we have spent years caring for everyone else, we have neglected our own dreams, health, finances, relationships, or emotional well-being.

And when your body can no longer carry the weight of overgiving, overpromising, people-pleasing, and staying silent, it eventually begins asking for your attention.

Sometimes it asks gently.

If you keep ignoring those gentle nudge messages, your body will cry out

For me, that cry showed up through emotional eating to soothe feelings I was afraid to face.

At the time, I thought food was my problem.
and the fat on my body was the enemy.

I had no idea that food was only the messenger
and my body was never the problem.

Looking back now, I can see that my body wasn’t betraying me.

It was trying to get my attention.

It was asking me to listen to the needs, feelings, and boundaries I had ignored for far too long.

The lesson isn’t to stop loving others.

The lesson is to include yourself in the circle of people you love.

Not because you are more important than anyone else.

But because you are equally important.

You deserve the same kindness, compassion, support, and care that you so freely offer to others.

Love should not require abandoning yourself.

Generosity should not come at the cost of your own stability.

And self-love is not selfish.

It is the foundation that allows you to continue showing up in your life with strength, integrity, and an open heart.

What if the next chapter of your healing isn’t about giving more?

What if it’s about finally allowing yourself to receive some of the love you’ve spent a lifetime giving away?

In my next post, I’ll share how a teacher named Connirae Andreas helped me understand that my obsession with food and my weight was never the real problem.

What I eventually discovered was that food was often the symptom of something much deeper.

Learning self-compassion didn’t just change the way I ate.

It helped me learn to trust myself again.

And as I began to trust myself, I developed a sense of self-respect that gradually blossomed into self-love.

That changed my life forever.

Nov 15, 2025

My story of this time in my life is for every woman who’s ever sacrificed herself, lost her way, and rebuilt herself from the ashes.

🌸 Before the Life I Knew Fell Apart

At 23, I was young, carefree, and still imagining a gentle future.

I had just returned from a month-long trip to Salamanca, Spain with my AP Spanish class at NYU. One week I was studying el subjuntivo, wandering ancient streets, laughing with classmates and getting a presentation ready. My biggest worry was mastering irregular verbs.

And then overnight, everything changed.

My father had been arrested.

I rushed straight to my Nana’s apartment.

I still remember walking into her bedroom and seeing her standing at her jewelry box. Her bedroom safe was open, and she was holding the deeds to the remaining three of our family’s buildings — reading them slowly, quietly, as if the words themselves could steady her hands.

She was preparing to put everything on the line if the court considered my dad a flight risk.

That was the moment I learned that life can split in two without warning:

Before.

And after.

🪞 The Day My Father Stopped Being My Daddy

A few days later, my Nana and I visited my dad at the jail before he was shipped upstate.

I can still feel the cold metal chair under me.

I noticed the armed guards poised watching us

I heard the dull hum of fluorescent lights.

I could feel the fear of this new reality rising up in my throat

My dad picked up the phone and looked straight at me.

The thick plate-glass window separating us.

I waited for tenderness.

For reassurance.

For the man who once made me feel so safe.

Instead, he spoke the sentence that would change the course of my life:

“Andrea, don’t think of me as your father.

Think of me as your boss.”

Just like that, my role changed.

My innocence evaporated.

My value shifted.

I became an asset, not a daughter.

A worker, not a child.

And because I loved my father so deeply —

because I was terrified of losing him —

I swallowed the hurt and nodded, silencing the part of myself that needed protection.

That was the day I learned how to disappear inside my own life.

💸 Fourteen Years of Shrinking Myself

In that jail visiting room, I agreed to accept the responsibility of managing our families’ millions of dollars in assets and pay myself $75 a week to run the family real estate business; 3 residential/commercial buildings in Manhattan.

Later I tested out my power and raised my salary to $150.

But for nearly fourteen years, I lived as if my worth were pocket change, paying myself

no more than a kid would earn for a summer job

The juxtaposition was insane

I wrote out a check to one of our contactors for a $60,000 sidewalk repair

And the next check I wrote was for me: $150

Each year in December I received a $60–70K tax-paid profit distribution.

But it didn’t feel real — it felt like Monopoly money.

Something I wasn’t allowed to keep.

So I spent it, because deep down, I didn’t believe I deserved anything of my own.

My Nana so wise in her money management skills begged to share her wisdom

I refused thinking it diminished my value

Budgeting my money felt too restrictive

I treated my money the same way I treated my power:

as something I had no right to hold onto.

Many women know this story.

Not my crazy specifics

but the ache of self-erasure.

The learned habit of putting everyone else first.

The childhood training that tells us we must give until we disappear.

Widows know this ache.

Estranged mothers know this pain.

Survivors of toxic relationships know this hurt.

We carry it silently,

and we learn to call it “strength.”

💔 What My Daughter Saw — and What She Never Knew

Years later, when I became a mother, I didn’t realize that I had brought those wounds with me.

My daughter didn’t know the trauma I survived.

She didn’t know the weight of responsibility I carried at 23.

She didn’t know the girl behind the plate-glass window nodding out of fear.

She didn’t know the loyalty that cost me my identity.

She only saw:

• a mother who overgave
• a boss mom who underpaid herself
• a mother who didn’t protect herself
• a mother who chose work over family
• a mother who accepted too little
• a mother who tried to be everything for everyone
• a mother who broke inside but kept going
• a mother who turned her coaching business into a charity

And because she didn’t know my map,

she judged the journey.

Many daughters do.

They confuse survival patterns with personal flaws.

But here is the truth we forget to tell:

We weren’t weak.

We were unprotected.

We weren’t irresponsible.

We were overwhelmed.

We didn’t fail our daughters.

We were surviving for them.

🌱 Every Woman Carries an Untold Story

If you are estranged.

If you are grieving.

If you are rebuilding after losing your partner.

If you have survived a toxic love.

If you are rediscovering yourself after years of shrinking…

I want you to hear this:

You are not broken.

You are not unworthy.

You are not beyond repair.

You are a woman with a story —

a story that shaped you long before anyone ever asked you to be strong.

And healing begins when we finally give ourselves

the compassion no one else ever knew we needed.

🌷 A Closing Truth

The woman I became was shaped by wounds I never chose.

But the woman I am becoming now —

she’s rooted in self-love, boundaries, and worthiness

that’s me and this woman is my creation.

If I can rise, out of the ashes of hell, then you can too.

Weekly Live Conversations — An Emotional Refuge for Women

You may think that being mean to yourself or pushing harder will motivate you, but over time it can slowly break you down.

Facing deep personal loss and grief has taught me that kindness toward ourselves is one of the most important strengths we can develop during painful times.

Loving Yourself Through Loss & Uncertainty

Because when life becomes uncertain — especially through grief, loss, stress, overwhelm, health struggles, or emotional pain — harshness doesn’t help us heal.

Just like children who fall down, we need tenderness and a gentle hand to help pick us back up.

Sometimes the people we love most don’t have the capacity to give us the sweetness and safety we crave.

I learned that healing is learning how to nurture and care for ourselves with compassion instead of shame.

Kindness creates resilience.

It helps us begin again.

It helps us care for our bodies.

It helps us reconnect to ourselves when we feel lost.

Loving ourselves through difficult seasons is not about having all the answers.

Sometimes it’s simply:

slowing down,

taking a breath,

making a nourishing meal,

cleaning our space,

going for a walk,

asking for support,

or speaking to ourselves with kindness instead of criticism.

That’s not weakness.

That’s healing.

To learn how to be kinder to yourself, join the first part of this livestream series starting today at 12:00 Noon EDT. Click the link to view it on my YouTube channel. bit.ly/4uKeTbD

If you’re reading this, chances are you know the quiet heartbreak of estrangement in your own way — the empty chair, the phone that doesn’t ring, the unanswered messages, the ache of loving someone who has stepped away and out of your life for an indeterminate period of time.

Maybe you’re navigating the distance of a parent, a child, or another person who once felt like home. Maybe the holidays bring up old wounds, old patterns, and an old familiar grief that sits heavy on your chest.

You might be carrying guilt, confusion, anger, shame, or the fear that you somehow failed in ways you can’t quite name. You might be trying to hold your life together while your heart feels split between longing and self-protection. You might be using food to soothe, overthinking to cope, or silence to survive.

If any of that feels true…
please know this: you’re not alone, and nothing about your struggle makes you broken.

Estrangement impacts your nervous system, your confidence, your relationship with your body, your self-worth, and the way you show up in the world.

This space — and this post — is for women who are trying to make sense of the loss, soften the guilt, and find a way to feel whole again… even when the relationship isn’t repaired.

I spent 18 years floating in that space of uncertainty and now I want to share some insights that I gained from my experience with estrangement.

From the time my father estranged himself from me back in 2007, I carried a deep ache that shaped everything — the way I loved, the way I trusted, and how I saw myself.

For years, holidays, weekends, Father’s Day, his birthday, mine — all of it — sent me into my bedroom in tears, eating mountains of ice cream and chocolate just to soothe the ache.

As a coach and woman struggling to make sense of estrangement, I knew estrangement was one of the toughest emotional challenges a woman can face… But for many years I was too far inside my own pain to help anyone else through theirs.

Then my husband, Angel, died — and everything shifted.

His death in 2021 snapped life into perspective. I realized how fragile time is. I had assumed there would always be “later.” Later to repair our fractured relationship. Later to say the things that were never said. Later to heal.

But there was no more later for him and for us.

And suddenly I saw that grieving my father’s estrangement for 11 long years was time I could have spent loving my family with more presence, grace, and compassion.

After my husband died, and our daughter eventually needed her own distance from me, it reopened that same old abandonment wound. At first, I took it as proof that I was unlovable. For a few years, her estrangement felt like a verdict on my worth.

But then I remembered what loss had taught me.

And then this past June, when my father died, I was invited to his funeral — and learned something that cracked my heart wide open:

In his final years, he spoke of me.
He was proud of me.
He missed me.
And he wondered why I wasn’t in his life.

All those years, I told myself a story:
“He doesn’t want me.”
“He doesn’t love me.”
“I must have done something unforgivable.”

I was wrong.

Standing at his graveside, watching his casket lowered into the ground, I realized something life-changing:

The sting of estrangement wasn’t coming from their choices — 
it was coming from what I told myself about their choices.

For years I believed their distance meant I wasn’t lovable, good enough, or worthy of staying. That belief kept me trapped in grief, shame, and endless cycles of self-blame.

What finally changed everything was this:

I stopped making their decisions about me.
Their choices belong to them.
My healing belongs to me.

And once I stopped carrying the blame,
the pain stopped carrying me.

💗 Some Moments to Help You Slow Down

If the holidays stir up big emotions… you’re not alone.

Estrangement isn’t just “a rough patch” — it feels like grief, guilt, confusion, longing, and the ache of the unseen all at once. And most moms carry this quietly, with no one who truly understands.

Here are a few small, steadying practices that help when your heart feels heavy:

🌬️ 1. When your thoughts start spinning… slow the moment, not yourself.

Place one hand on your heart and the other on your belly.
Take a slow inhale and whisper:

“I’m allowed to feel this.”

Permission calms your nervous system faster than perfection ever could.

🤍 2. When guilt shows up, meet it with truth.

Guilt says: “It’s all my fault.”
Truth says: “I’m human. I did the best I could with what I knew then.”

Your nervous system believes the voice you feed it. Feed it the truth.

🍽️ 3. If emotional eating hits, try this soft reframe.

Food is not the enemy.
It’s comfort.
A pause.
A way your body says, “Please hold me.”

Before you take a bite, ask yourself gently:

“What am I needing right now?”

Not to stop yourself — 
but to meet yourself.

Every answer is valid.

🧘‍♀️ 4. Give yourself one “win” a day.

Not a chore — a soothing win:

A warm shower
A walk
Lighting a candle
Five silent minutes
A supportive text to someone safe

Healing happens one gentle act of self-respect at a time.

💛 5. You are not too late, too broken, or too far gone.

Estrangement tells you the lie that you no longer matter.
But you’re here.
Your heart is here.
Your worth never left you.
Your story isn’t over.

✋ 6. My favorite technique for emotional relief: TAT

Tapas Acupressure Technique (TAT), developed by Tapas Fleming, activates calm in the nervous system — I use pillows to support my arms.

Place one hand on your neck.
Place the other hand gently over your forehead.
Breathe until your body softens.

It’s simple, soothing, and surprisingly powerful.

If you’re a mom suffering with being estranged from loved ones, I invite you to join my 11/28 EventBrite workshop:

From Lost to Loved: A Healing Workshop for. Estranged Moms

Here is that information: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/1975358001959?aff=oddtdtcreator

💔 Learning to Let Go: My Empty Nest Story

Empty nest syndrome is that deep ache of grief and loneliness many parents feel when their grown children leave home to live independently for the first time. Maybe your son or daughter just moved out to attend college, start a job, or find their own apartment.

Around 2016, long before my daughter Cara and I became estranged, I was already feeling the quiet ache of an empty nest.

Now, as a 62-year-old woman and widow who’s lived through multiple layers of loss, I carry a mountain of mature mom perspective I simply didn’t have back then when I took far too many of my blessings for granted. I don’t really know the future of my relationship with my daughter.

But I can honestly say that I’m far beyond the rawness of early grief over our separation, and I’ve learned to take honest, compassionate responsibility for my part in what happened between us.

Looking back, I can see that my fear of losing her — and my need to hold on too tightly — sometimes came across as control or manipulation. That pattern, born out of love and fear, likely influenced her choice to step back and create distance.

Our relationship today isn’t the easy, giggle-filled close bond we once shared when she was young. But with time, I’ve come to understand more clearly how both of our journeys unfolded. I’m learning to rest in peaceful acceptance, loving her and myself through every stage of this complex, mother/daughter love story.

🌱 Anticipating Becoming an Empty Nester

Cara was sixteen when she and I first visited the Culinary Institute of America for a group tour. As we leaned against the glass wall of one of the industrial kitchens, she turned to me, her eyes glowing, and said, “Mom, this is where I’m going to go to school!”

I know my daughter — and at that moment, a shiver of fear ran down my spine. Not for her, but for me. I never wanted to be apart from her.

That week, I started acting differently. The warmth that usually flowed between us was replaced by a chill that came from my direction. I’m ashamed to admit that I launched a small, pitiful campaign of subtle jabs — little guilt trips meant to make her want to stay closer to home.

💔 Acting Irrationally Out of Fear

That Sunday in church, I stood up and shared that in two years Cara would be going off to Culinary. In my usual dramatic fashion, I playacted the sadness I felt — putting my hand to my forehead and saying I was already “practicing missing her.”

Afterward, our usual car-ride banter was replaced by silence. Later, Cara asked me to come to her room. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Mom, I’m really angry with you. You’ve been mean to me all week, and what you did in church today was the last straw. What’s going on with you?”

Her honesty cracked me open. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I stumbled for words. “Ca, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I know I’ve been mean, but I don’t want you to go away to college. I just want you to stay here forever.”

She listened quietly, then said something that changed me:

“Mom, you don’t get it. Cooking is something I love, and I want to give that love to other people through food. I need you to let me go.”

Through my tears, I laughed and saw us both more clearly. That conversation ended with a promise: I told her that no matter what she wanted, I was behind her all the way.

💭 My Attempt to Keep Her Close

As the time drew closer for Cara to leave, my anxiety grew. I came up with what I thought was a brilliant plan: if she wouldn’t stay with me, then I’d move the family closer to her.

We’d just sold our home and were renting a house an hour away from her school. My husband, Angel, wanted to retire in Florida, but our marriage was rocky, and I couldn’t imagine being 1,300 miles away from my kids.

So one day, I called a family meeting. I suggested that when our lease ended, we move closer to Culinary to be near Cara. Everyone agreed. Within months, in the dead of winter, we were house-hunting again.

🏠 When My Plan Backfired

We found a place just a few miles from Cara’s new school. It had no air conditioning, outdated everything, and 2 acres of lawn we’d have to mow ourselves. None of that mattered — I was determined to live near my daughter.

For the first two semesters, it was heaven. I saw her almost every day. and we ate lunches in the gourmet restaurants at the school. But in her fifth month, all the communication stopped. She left for a five-month externship at a seaside resort in Maine.

The day we dropped her off, I thought I would die from the separation. Most days after that were spent at the bottom of an ice cream container, numbing my grief with sugar and self-pity.

Now, years later, I can see that separation as one of the best things that ever happened to me. It forced me to grow beyond the “Mom identity” I had built around her and my son.

When your child leaves home, it can feel like a death — but it’s really a birth. You are being challenged by the universe to rediscover yourself.

❤️❤️ Coming Next — Part 2: Emptynester Blues

Tips to Ease the Pain of Mid-Life Mom Change

In Part 2, I’ll share how I faced the ache of separation, the healing tools that helped me through grief, and the unexpected ways that loss reshaped my purpose.

If you’ve ever cried in your child’s empty room or wondered who you are now that they’ve grown, this next part is for you.

In Part 2, I’ll share some of the gentle, practical things that have helped me start to rebuild — the small actions that make a big difference when your heart feels heavy and your purpose uncertain.

Think of it as a mid-life mom survival kit, filled with ways to:

🌿 Ease the ache of silence in your day
💬 Reclaim your voice and identity
💗 Nurture yourself instead of everyone else
🕯️ Find meaning again — even in the in-between

If you’ve been feeling the emptynester blues or the deeper ache of estrangement, you’re not alone.
Part 2 will meet you there, with compassion, perspective, and a few tools that have truly helped me heal.

Stay tuned — Part 2 drops soon: “Emptynester Blues — Tips to Ease the Pain of Mid-Life Mom Change.” 💕

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We’re all learning how to love ourselves through the changes that come with mid-life and loss. If you’d like daily encouragement, reflections, and short videos on self-love and emotional healing, I invite you to follow me on Facebook.
It’s where I share the tools and truths that keep me grounded, hopeful, and brave. ✨

It really sucks to be stuck in one-sided relationships where you’re always the giver and the other person does all the taking and never shows any appreciation for you. Those are toxic dynamics that teach you that your needs don’t matter. Over time, you start to believe that being mistreated or ignored is just what you deserve. And that’s not true at all.

The Layers of Toxic Relationships

If you didn’t grow up in a healthy environment where self-expression and independence was valued, you’re more vulnerable to relationships where there is an imbalance of power. Many of us were taught that speaking up meant “making trouble.” We even took on the burden of managing other people’s reactions — believing their upset and bad behavior was our fault.

Staying Silent to Survive

When I think back on all the times I lied or stayed silent because I was afraid of upsetting people, it makes me sad. Sad to know I had been manipulated into silence by people who weren’t concerned with my well-being at all.

I realized this a few weeks ago during my Cooking Up Confidence livestream as I peeled an onion and started to cry — not just from the onion, or the heat in the kitchen, but from the truth behind my silence for so many years.

Toxic relationships are complicated. Just like an onion, they have so many layers of feelings. You may love someone and resent them at the same time. You may feel afraid, angry, and heartbroken but still feel like you owe that person your loyalty and trust. You want to see the best in them, so you make excuses, normalize their mistreatment, and call it love.

But love doesn’t mean tolerating pain and bad behavior. Self-love isn’t selfish — it’s survival. I learned this the hard way after years of making excuses for my father’s verbal abuse. The day I set a boundary to stop it was the day I started reclaiming my power.

Peeling back those layers of those difficult relationships takes courage. Each layer exposed brings you closer to the truth: you deserve respect, kindness, and love.

Facing Betrayal and Rejection

Family betrayal is one of the deepest wounds. By my 50s, after betrayal upon betrayal, I could see the damage clearly: my health, my confidence, my finances, and my sense of self — all eroded by years of people-pleasing, silence and shame. I know the pain of loss and wanting to get answers.

The stab-in-your-heart pain comes from believing their rejection is a personal attack. You replay it endlessly: “Why did they do it? How could they do this to me?” But blaming others only keeps you stuck. Waiting for an apology or closure gives your power away.

If you want to be free, you have to change the way you see your situation. Whatever they did was about their own self-preservation, not your worth. Their choice reflects their limitations — not yours.

Changing the Voice in Your Head

No matter what, you are worthy exactly as you are.

Many of us carry an inner critic — a harsh, judgmental voice echoing words from the past. It makes us feel anxious and inadequate. The first step to healing is awareness and understand just because you are thinking a thought does not mean it is true. Many of the thoughts we think come from our memories of what we have been told by others. If you are bombarded by negative thoughts and self-doubt, ask yourself, “Whose voice is this? And how long will I let it control me?”

When you speak to yourself kindly, your body relaxes. When you berate yourself, your stress response fires. Over time, that stress eats away at your health. That’s why self-love and self-care aren’t selfish — they’re survival.

The Power of Perspective

You can shift your thinking in a heartbeat — and that can change your life.

It’s like wearing blue glasses your whole life. Suddenly you swap them for rose-colored ones, and everything looks brighter, warmer, and more hopeful. The world didn’t change — your perspective did.

That’s the power of choosing yourself. When you see your hardest situations as your greatest gifts, you become unstoppable. You can move beyond toxic relationships, recover from illness, and thrive despite the worst conditions.

My Cooking Up Confidence Livestream Series

I’m passionate about teaching you what I know about how to rise above adversity. I thought it would be a blast to combine two of my greatest loves; cooking and coaching. That’s why I started my livestream series, Cooking Up Confidence. In Episode #3, I share how one-sided relationships can convince us we don’t deserve better — and why choosing yourself first is the most loving thing you can do.

▶️ Watch the full episode here: https://youtube.com/live/qZC7CTzpaic
💌 And if this resonates with you, I invite you to join me on Substack, where I write weekly about self-love, healing, and finding confidence after loss: lovintheskinyourein.substack.com

Come Cook with Me (Live!)

So many times, especially during grief, we want to say things but can’t. It feels like we’re shouting into the void and nobody’s listening. It’s in those moments of feeling empty and alone when we need to practice being kinder and more compassionate with ourselves.

If you’d like to practice becoming your own best nurturer in the kitchen (and in life), join me for my next live cooking/coaching event:

🥄✨ Own Your Voice: Vegetable Barley Soup (Ep. 4)
Cooking Up Confidence with Andrea Amador
📅 Saturday, Sept 27 @ 6:00 p.m. ET
💜 RSVP: [https://www.facebook.com/events/1432331664512689]

How I Got the IRS to Lower My Tax Payments — And How You Can Too

5 Steps to Reduce Your IRS Tax Debt If You’re Facing Hardship, Part 1

Owing money to the IRS is terrifying. When I lost my income and my husband died, I thought I’d never get out from under my tax debt. But thanks to the IRS, I was able to reduce my payments for three years with free services available from the IRS to people facing hardship. Here’s exactly how I did it.

Grants and IRS Relief Go Hand in Hand

Before I explain how I worked with the IRS to reduce my payments, let me share this: if you’re facing hardship, grants can also help.

Grants are free U.S. government money programs that provide cash and services to low- and moderate-income earners in financial distress. In 2020, COVID wiped out my income overnight. Suddenly my late husband and I couldn’t pay rent or bills. Terrified of losing our home, I learned how to use grants to rescue my family from eviction. Since then, I’ve successfully received over $47K in grants and helped others get over $31K. Grants kept my family from eviction, and IRS hardship relief kept me from drowning in tax debt.

The IRS also has hardship relief programs. Just like grants, they require you to ask, explain your situation, and provide documentation. Once you do, you may discover options you didn’t think were possible.

📌 IRS Relief Programs: Know the Difference

🏛️ Taxpayer Advocate Service (TAS)

• Independent watchdog organization inside the IRS
• Advocates for you when the IRS system fails
• Helps with hardship, delays, or unfair treatment
• Free attorneys and caseworkers available
• Call IRS National Taxpayer Advocate Helpline: 877–777–4778

🏛️ Taxpayer Assistance Centers (TACs)

• Local IRS offices for in-person appointments
• Staffed by IRS employees
• Handle:
  • Payments & installment agreements
  • Identity verification
  • Tax forms & transcripts
  • Some hardship cases (like lowering payments, as in my story)
• Call: 844–545–5640

👉 Bottom line: TAS = advocates when the IRS isn’t playing fair. TAC = in-person IRS offices for services and appointments.

Step 1: Call the IRS and Explain Your Hardship

Soon after my husband Angel passed away, I went online to the IRS website here: https://www.irs.gov/help/contact-your-local-irs-office

I called the IRS at 844–545–5640 to explain I couldn’t afford my $192/month payment.

Step 2: Ask for a Temporary Payment Reduction

When you call the IRS expect very long wait times- an hour is not unusual. I’ve waited as long as 3 hours. I just put my phone on speaker and continue my day. You can either wait or have them call you back. No matter what you decide, be patient, polite and professional.

I chose to hold with the volume lowered. After hours of waiting, I finally reached a representative. When the agent came to the phone and stated their name and ID, I wrote it down. Taking notes is essential or use a digital recorder.

The IRS Agent representative was very patient and kind. I told him that my husband had just died and I was an unemployed widow and could not afford our monthly tax payment. He offered his condolences and agreed to see if he could help me lower my monthly payment.

He explained that I may be eligible to temporarily lower my installment payments on account of my hardship. He also told me that if I was eligible for the reduction, I would have to have access to a fax machine so I could complete and sign a written agreement indicating my new lowered payment.

That spooked me and I panicked, so I hung up without thinking. Immediately I called the IRS back again to be sure that what I had been told was standard operating policy. I waited another hour and and spoke with a representative, following through with everything else I did before.

The representative told me that he would ask me several questions to determine my budget and expenses. After a few minutes of discussing the amount of my rent, utilities, transportation, food and personal expenses, he determined that I was eligible.

He asked me if there was any amount I could pay. I told him that I could pay $50/month. He said that would be agreeable and if I needed to extend the installment payment agreement reduction for another year I just had to call and talk to another IRS representative again.

Step 3: Confirm Everything in Writing

In order to confirm the change in my installment agreement, I needed to receive, complete and sign a faxed form 433D sent by the agent. The 433D form is a signed agreement between you and the IRS to pay the sum discussed with the agent.

I chose to have my $50/month payment debited from my personal checking account. I provided the routing and account number on the form, initialing my agreement on the monthly date I chose.

At the time, I used an online fax service called MyFax to submit it. Later, IRS policy changed, and they stopped using fax apps. I didn’t want to buy a fax machine, and wasn’t comfortable calling or faxing the IRS from a public area. My only option was to call a Taxpayer Assistance Center to make an appointment. I went to the irs site: https://apps.irs.gov/app/office-locator/

I also called the Taxpayer Assistant Center at 844–545–5640

Step 4: Make an Appointment at a Taxpayer Assistance Center

In 2023, I visited the IRS Taxpayer Assistance Center in downtown New York City at 290 Broadway. I met with a male and female agent. I asked for another extension at $50/month, but was told based on IRS calculations, my minimum would rise to $120/month — with an automatic increase to $220/month in February of 2025. I gratefully signed the agreement, but planned to fight the increase the following year.

A Great Experience with Taxpayer Assistance Center in Harlem

Two months before my Installment Payment Agreement was due to expire, I went online to find a number to call where I could speak with a person.
I called 844–545–5640 to schedule an appointment to visit an office near me which was available at the times I needed. I made an appointment with the Tax Payer Assistance branch in Harlem.

My appointment date ended up being in January, a couple days before my January payment was due and a month before my installment agreement would expire. I had all my documents with me.

When my number was called I walked into a partitioned cubicle with a female agent behind a plate of glass at a computer. I explained my hardship situation and told her about my payment automatically increasing next month. I made a request asking the agent for IRS’ consideration to extend my reduced payment agreement starting in February to $120/month or less.

She asked me several questions and excused herself to confer with 2 other female agents; both her supervisors. I was there for about an hour.

The 2 supervisors reviewed IRS code and looked for a loophole that would extend my reduced payment based on hardship. They told me that my new payment would be $66/month and that would begin on February 12. Tears of joy and relief streamed down my cheeks.

They told me that for the month of January I would need to make my regular payment of $120. Then starting February, my payment would drop to $66/month. I was thrilled.

They explained how I would need to annotate the new payments. I asked if I could make a payment there at the office. They confirmed that payments are received there in the form of check or money order only.

I asked if I could make a payment by money order that day and if there was a post office nearby. They gave me directions to the nearest post office and I took note of all the annotation required to add to the note portion of my payment .

I thanked the 3 agents, left the office and walked to the nearest post office to get a money order. After I returned, I made my payment, got my stamped receipt, and had a big smile on my face.

Step 5: Follow Through and Pay on Time

Consistency matters. Here’s how I stay on track:

• Put your payment date on your calendar
• Set reminders at least two weeks in advance
• Call the IRS before you miss a payment
• Call to find out what documents to bring to an appointment
• Bring all documents in a folder when meeting agents
• Take notes or have a digital recorder on hand

Be kind, courteous, and patient. The agents are there to help, and showing responsibility makes a difference.

Closing Thoughts

If you owe the IRS money, consider calling or making an appointment with a Taxpayer Assistance Center or the Taxpayer Advocate Service. Both can open doors you didn’t know existed.

Help is out there if you’re willing to reach for it.

➡️ In Part 2, I’ll explain what to do when you receive an IRS notice demanding a higher amount than you negotiated with your local Tax Payer Assistance Center.

If you owe the IRS money, how could you benefit by chatting or making an appointment with a Taxpayer Advocate?

Want to learn more about how grants can help you? Become a member of my Grants Made Easy with Andrea Amador Facebook group here. https://www.facebook.com/groups/grantsmadeeasywithandreaamador/

If you want to scroll past the story explaining why I was depressed, go to the subtitle: Resentment and Financial Challenges Drive a Wedge in My Marriage.

My father’s betrayal triggers my fear and mistrust of men

I was feeling raw, hurt and broken-hearted, grieving the loss of being estranged and betrayed by a dad I adored. To make a long story short, my father and I used to have a wonderful relationship, but all that changed when I stepped in to help him run the family real estate business.

One day it became clear that my father could no longer run the family real estate business. Without hesitation, I left college.

I would have done anything to help out my dad. I was so deeply grateful to him for giving me a safe, loving home after years of living in chaos with my mother and step father.

Trigger warning — sexual abuse — My turbulent history of sexual abuse

After my parents divorced, my mother remarried and we moved from New York City down to Miami. My new step father, Jorge was a school teacher who turned out to be a pedophile.

My mother loved and trusted him completely. She never seemed to be around. And when she was physically present, she wasn’t mentally or emotionally all there. Years later she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Jorge used to beat my baby brother and he sexually abused me and eventually trafficked me out to his friends. I hated my life and prayed that one day my dad would rescue me.

My Dad rescues me

And he did. My wish came true. When I was about 10 years old, my father and step mother, Rosie invited me to live with them. Living with Dad and Rosie and being so close to my dad’s mom who I called Nana gave me a sense of being loved and secure for the first time in my life.

So when my dad got into a jam, I just wanted to help him as he had rescued me.

My dad changes and becomes verbally abusive

The long and short of it is that once I stepped in to help my dad by running the family real estate business with my Nana, I seemed to have lost my place in my father’s heart.

I should have seen a red flag when he told me, “Don’t think of me as your father. Think of me as your boss.” That was actually the first sign my father was changing. Over the next several years he became viciously verbally abusive to Nana and me.

Making excuses for my father’s verbal abuse

And Nana and I both accepted it as being okay. We made excuses for him justifying his emotional abuse. I remember he would shout at Nana and tell her how incompetent and stupid she was until she was sobbing uncontrollably with her head down on the desk.

I know for me I thought his verbal assaults were no big deal. I compared his temper to being sexually abused by my step father and his friends. My dad’s yelling, cursing and put downs didn’t even register for me as being abusive.

Verbal abuse is abuse

Now I know that the sexual abuse I suffered at the hands of so many men was like a walk in the park in comparison to the insidiously damaging influence my father’s emotional and verbal abuse had on my life.

Verbal abuse is used to manipulate, intimidate and control

I also realize that since my father was forced to entrust me to run the business, I had control of all the money. Because I had signature power, I could write a check to anyone in any amount. If I would have been a dishonest person I could have robbed him blind.

But I loved him and I yearned for his approval so I complied with most of his demands. Each week for 15 years I wrote myself a check for $150 as we initially agreed.

All my financial needs were taken care of by the business. But there was something about knowing my salary was $150/week that really messed with my mind and made me feel small and insignificant.

For the first 15 years that I worked for my family, I was a woman in power who allowed herself to feel powerless. Because I had deluded myself into believing I had no value, I allowed my father and so many others to convince me I was right.

Looking back in retrospect, I don’t know why I put my father up on a pedestal for as long as I did but I learned my lesson. As the years passed, he turned out to be a greedy guy. He changed and it took me years to recognize that he was no longer the dad I loved.

The old dad, the man he used to be only lives on in my memories.

I remember all the times when we disagreed about how to handle the business. He would cut me down and call me stupid, naive, a dumb blonde and slammed my intelligence to bits.

But I was not the dumb blonde my father continually said I was. Being a woman in the male-dominated world of Manhattan real estate in the 80’s was a challenge. But Nana and I proved to be even tougher. We thrived from the challenges we faced. We did it together.

Managing three residential buildings in Manhattan with 110 tenant families and a 40 machine coin-operated Laundromat with my 80 year old Nana was no piece of cake.

Together Nana and I became a force. With the help of our contractors and superintendents we raised the value of the 3 buildings to 8 figures. After Nana passed away I found a women’s empowerment group and shared my story with them.

They encouraged me to stand up to my father. One day I did and I demanded that we sell the building and my father give me a 49% share. At first he refused then he agreed.

When push came to shove it was me who negotiated the sale of the properties for $10.5 million, along with a life lease for my father to live in comfort for less than $250 a month.

Unfortunately, I trusted my father implicitly and continually ignored the pleadings of my husband and friends who urged me to demand a signed contractual agreement from him gifting me with 49 percent of the proceeds of the $10.5M. Ultimately my father ended up with everything and quickly took legal steps to disown me and my family.

After the buildings were sold and it was clear to me that I had gotten the shaft, I spent 11 years reeling in depression agonizing and wondering what happened. My husband urged me to hire a lawyer to seek a settlement. I refused. I was in too much shock to entertain the thought of money.

I made my father a multi-millionaire and he never even thanked me. I had been used and abused by the person in the world I loved most. My dad. One day I got a letter from his lawyer telling me never to contact him again. I was bereft with grief.

I desperately wanted to get closure but it never came. I guess I’ll never know why he chose to distance me from his life.

Resentment and financial challenges drive a wedge in my marriage

All the blame and finger pointing was crushing my marriage. I was reeling from the shock of my father cutting me out of his life. Angel kept pressing me to pursue finding a lawyer. I was too broken-hearted to think straight.

My father’s greedy actions brought up all my old trust issues and fear of men. All those years of living with my mother and step father where I learned from painful personal experience that men couldn’t be trusted and I wasn’t safe in their presence.

I retreat from the world and push my husband away

Filled with an unbearable grief, I started retreating from the world. I grieved for 11 years. During that time I cut off many of my friends and family.

My marriage to Angel was in trouble. We were barely intimate, let alone civil to one another. He was resentful and angry blaming me for our situation and I was filled with guilt. We both wanted to be closer to each other but didn’t know how to cross the bridge that separated us.

I told him he was too much for me and I didn’t have the same level of sex drive as him. I noticed how his preferences for porn changed from younger, thinner women to more mature, larger women similar in size and shape to me.

It was a consolation thinking he missed me and desired to be with me. But in reality I was just so hurt and the last thing on my mind was having sex. So much of my identity was wrapped up in being approved of and loved by my dad. I felt crushed by his abandonment.

Living through the consequences of my father’s greedy betrayal caused an avalanche of debt that made it necessary to sell our home. The last several years before my husband, Angel died were very difficult for our whole family.

At one point in 2010, we were on welfare and getting food stamps. Because I couldn’t afford a tax bill of $5000, I felt pressured to sell the home we loved. Despite having plans for Angel to retire and us move down to Florida, I suggested that we find a house to rent closer to our kids. Because my credit was so bad, in order for us to rent a house we had to pay 15 months of rent in advance; $52,000 gone in the blink of an eye.

I stopped coaching and took a job. Both of us were so bitter and resentful. Angel’s lovable calm and sweet nature was eclipsed by anger, complaining and irritation. My way of rebelling was to spend the money from the sale of the house and drive up our debt. What in the hell was I thinking?

Neither Angel nor I really knew how to communicate without feeling hurt and vulnerable so instead we chose to suffer in silence. With a big, rambling house, it was just easier to distance ourselves from one another and avoid risking rejection by giving voice to our feelings.

At one point because Angel had become so gruff, I convinced myself that he no longer loved me. I invited him to go outside of our marriage to satisfy his needs. I told him it would be okay with me if he did a webcam thing with a woman. One day, years later when I asked him about it, he said that wasn’t what he wanted. I believed him.

After Angel died, I felt a strange sense of peace knowing that despite the fact that throughout our marriage I was always terrified of the possibililty of him cheating on me, I could never prove it. It wasn’t for lack of trying.

It’s crazy to say but when Angel died, I was looking forward to quietly mourning my sweet man and honoring the love we shared. In the early years of our marriage my trauma kept me in patterns of putting him through absolute hell. I knew he was a good man. He had proven himself year after year. I knew that my tendency to mistrust had hurt him so much.

After he died, I wanted to remember him as the wonderful man, great father and loving husband I knew him to be.

The police officer assigned to his accident case said there was a witness who saw Angel having a medical episode driving through traffic. The officer said that the witness whose car was following him, saw Angel looking for a safe place to park his truck.

After calling 9–1–1- to get help for Angel, the witness saw that Angel was able to park in a small, highly populated area. But after parking the truck, Angel hit a telephone pole and died on impact.

The witness said that Angel was a hero because his safe driving despite his condition protected so many people from getting killed that day. That ability to think about others was one of the things I loved most about my Angel.

I thought that with all the sadness and pain of resentment gone, I could finally remember all the wonderful years when we were a happily married couple, wildly in love.

But just 3 days before my late husband’s funeral, I found a slip of paper in Angel’s handwriting with several porn websites listed that hinted he may have taken me up on my offer. I felt crushed.

In Part 2, I’ll go into more detail of how I dealt with my discovery and new ways of thinking about infidelity.

Back in 2016 I submitted my story, “Beauty At Every Size” to Chicken Soup for the Soul for inclusion in their then upcoming book, “Curvy & Confident: 101 Stories About Loving Yourself and Your Body”

After it was accepted, I received an email from Supermodel Emme (Aronson) telling me that my story was so great that it was chosen out of thousands of submissions to appear in the book.

by Andrea Amador

Feeling beautiful has always been very important to me. Yet for all the years that I hated my body, it didn’t matter what size I was, a part of me wasn’t willing to consider myself as beautiful. The truth was I never saw a full-figured women whose face demonstrated that she felt beautiful exactly as she was.

In early 2009, in the process of writing my book, “Lovin’ the Skin You’re In,” I stumbled upon the Plus Model Magazine website. I was overjoyed to discover a whole other world of beauty. I leafed through the online magazine and read article after article about fashion, movies, events, and so many other wonderful things that opened up my world, expanded my vision, increased my appreciation for my body, and made me feel beautiful inside and out. As I clicked through the pages, and saw a sisterhood of beautiful women of all sizes and shapes, suddenly I didn’t feel like an outcast. Seeing my body through fresh eyes made my confidence soar. And that felt so good that I just had to spread the love and inspire other women to see their bodies as beautiful too.

One day I was shopping in Lane Bryant (a plus size women’s retail store) looking for some great blouses for summer . I buzzed through the store making my choices from the racks and plucking out an armload of clothes ranging in sizes from 14/16 -18/20.

As I was made a beeline for the fitting room to try my clothes on, a lovely woman stopped to compliment me on the blouse I was wearing. It was a blue and green mosaic design short-sleeved peasant blouse.

When I dressed that morning, I had deliberately pulled down the elasticized neckline of the blouse to expose my neck and shoulders because I loved the look on me.

As I glanced at the woman who complimented my blouse, I noticed her eyes had a wistful, almost mournful expression. I wondered why. Then I smiled at her and said, “you know this same blouse would look incredible on you.” I pointed to the rack and told her, “I bought it here. It’s still available. What do you think of getting it?” I watched as her lovely smile faded and the corners of her mouth turned downward into a sullen frown.

She said, “Oh no, my arms are too fat. That type of blouse is not for me.”

I told her that her thought was probably coming from the screaming meanie critics that are stuck in her head, holding her back from wearing these types of blouses and doing other things she really wanted to do in life. I explained a little further about how the internal voice we all have tries to keep us in self-doubt, and pushes us to be afraid and believe we’re not good enough, pretty enough, or just not able to measure up. But then I reminded her that she’s really in charge and not that voice, and she could choose to take back control anytime she wanted.

Then, in a private moment to myself, I remembered how for years I would never have had the confidence to bear my arms in public no matter what size I was. All those years lost. So much time wasted on thinking about what? My body? Obsessing about the size of my thighs? Worried about fat arms? How insane!